He remembers this, remembers how to run equipment. The variations and variegations in who he is compared to who he isn't, and he's lucky that they all boil down to a singular fixed, familiar point. They all ran under the same colors, once, until they fractured the same way most things do.

Biometrics feed back a spiked heartrate, which isn't surprising.

"I'm not seeing anything...nothing that would suggest an injury, or anything like that." Either he or someone else in his skull got real good at reading these things in the adrenaline of combat, picking apart which injuries are critical and how badly gut-fucked you're about to be if you can't get someone to drag you to medical, fast. "Does it...hurt?"